


From Pebbles to Trinkets

by RooOJoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Happy Ending, Healing, Transfiguration (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:13:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RooOJoy/pseuds/RooOJoy
Summary: Pansy didn't want to be there. The others could care less if she was there or not. She never expected anyone to notice her loneliness, let alone how broken she had become; especially a Weasley.
Relationships: Pansy Parkinson/Percy Weasley
Comments: 15
Kudos: 52
Collections: Transfiguration: 2020 Round One





	From Pebbles to Trinkets

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DBQ2020Round1](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DBQ2020Round1) collection. 



> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. 
> 
> The theme for this round of the competition was Transfiguration and my chosen pairing was Pansy Parkinson & Percy Weasley.
> 
> Comments/Reviews are encouraged by The Slytherin Cabal's Admin Team on all stories in Death By Quill, but comments left by readers are set to be moderated by story authors until the end of the competition in order to protect participants' anonymity. 
> 
> Thank you to my beta for their time and help.

Pansy had arrived at Kings Cross an hour before the train’s departure. Having no desire to fight the crowds that she would be accompanying on this dreaded debacle, she quickly found a compartment to herself. People passed her as the train began to fill, but they all chose to continue on rather than share a space with her. Their shocked gasps and muffled words of surprise drifted through the thin glass. One particular comment alerted her to the majority of the train's thoughts of her joining them:  _ That’s the bitch that tried to give up Potter. _

But she was only here to help the rebuilding process, same as them, even if it was because her father had forced her to. Rolling her eyes, she looked out the window, watching as eventually, the rolling hills morphed into rocky crags. 

The school’s dormitories couldn’t hold all the volunteers, as only Hufflepuff’s common room remained intact, so Pansy was placed in one of the rooms above the Three Broomsticks. This suited her well enough; she could at least find a reprise away from the majority of people—not that they wanted her around anyway. She kept to herself, showed up where she was assigned, did her duty, and went back to her solitude. 

After a fortnight had passed and she was sitting in her room avoiding the noisy, crowded taproom, a letter flew from under her door, bouncing through the air in the centre of the room. Curiously, she approached it and waved her wand to detect if there was anything amiss. Finding nothing, she grabbed it and found her name lettered elegantly on one side. Breaking the onyx-coloured seal, she pulled a stiff parchment from inside. It was accompanied by the rich scents of expensive ink, spruce, and something sweet—maybe honey. 

_ You’ve been here with us for two weeks, and yet you hide in your room. Why not at least attempt to socialize? You may find an unexpected friend.  _

The letter wasn’t signed, and she rolled her eyes in annoyance. Looking up, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Where a confident and gorgeous young woman once stood, now a sad, mousy-looking witch stared back at her. It disgusted her, and even though a part of her wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed for the night, she decided she had nothing to lose. 

Running a brush through her long locks, she smoothed it back into its sleek, ebony curtain. She applied rouge to her cheeks, a coat of deep red gloss to her lips, and pressed her breasts together, letting the deep line of her cleavage show. Smirking at her appearance, she grabbed the letter and marched downstairs, determined to let her pride be what people saw instead of the weakness she felt inside. 

Making it a point to linger on the bottom step, she found it crowded and busy, but not one person seemed to take notice of her. Huffing slightly and feeling a bit let down, she chose a place at the bar, and soon Rosmerta was in front of her. 

For a moment, Pansy stared at the woman she had idolized as a young girl. During Hogsmeade visits, she and Daphne would come into the pub for a butterbeer. The barmaid had not only been gorgeous, but her personality was infectious. She was able to light a room with her bright smile, while a glint in her eye always made Pansy think she was up to something. Rosmerta was everything Pansy wasn’t, but yet, she was endearing. 

Now, the woman looked tired, her make-up smudged and the light in her eyes barely flickering. Pansy felt pity for the barmaid; the daunting realisation that no one had escaped this war whole hit her like a well-aimed  _ Crucio _ . So much had been taken from so many. 

Pansy contemplated firewhiskey for a moment, the urge strong to drown the bitter and resentful feelings away—but that was not why she was there. “Chardonnay, please.” 

Rosmerta placed the wine down, and Pansy murmured her thanks. Delicately, she grasped the thin stem of the glass and tilted the fragrant liquid to her lips. Closing her eyes at the flavour, she took two more sips, enjoying the feeling of warmth in her belly and the subtle fog to her mind. 

Taking the letter from her pocket, she smoothed it out on the bar’s surface and reread the words. Why would someone not sign the letter? They hadn’t even given her a chance to reply or defend herself. Not that she would have done either, but still she would have liked the option. 

As she finished her wine, she began feeling a pleasant sense of numbness. Running her fingers over the words, she couldn’t help but realise just how lonely she’d been. At the same time, her guard was up. She didn’t expect anyone to want to be friends with her. She had found that out on her train ride here, and no one since had made her think otherwise. Sighing, she folded the letter neatly and tucked it back in the folds of her robes. Feeling dejected, and having no desire to be the arse of someone’s joke, she finished her drink to leave.

“Can I get you another glass?” 

She looked up to see a man taking the seat next to hers and motioning to Rosmerta for two more drinks. There was a short moment of surprise before the well-trained feeling of revulsion hit her stomach and tiptoed its way to her throat. “No, you may not. It’s not like a Weasley would have enough gold to do such a thing anyway.” 

Watching him for his reaction, she was surprised when he did nothing more than sigh and accept the wine glass placed in front of him. He lifted it to her in cheers and swirled the contents before taking a swallow, his nose flared as he inhaled the aroma. She watched him intently, hoping her glare would get him to leave her alone.

He met her stare, nodded, and shifted his weight. “Oh, yes, I forgot. You don’t socialize.” 

For a moment, she thought her glower had worked. He fidgeted in his seat, and she smirked thinking she was close to scaring him off. Yet, as she registered his words, her mind went straight to the letter –  _ Why not at least attempt to socialize? –  _ and her eyes widened. “It was you.” 

His expression remained stoic, but he hadn’t moved from his stool yet. “So, will you at least share one glass with me?” 

Narrowing her eyes, she regarded his demeanour. While she noted that he certainly looked uncomfortable, his voice remained even and his expression void of clues. From her memory, she recognized him to be Percy, a few years ahead of her at Hogwarts, prefect and Head Boy, and rather a stick-in-the-mud if she remembered correctly. He had been known to dock points for minor rule-breaking whether you were in his house or not. Dress code violations and breaking curfew had never gone unnoticed by the Gryffindor.

Pansy had no reason to not drink the glass of wine. It was already poured. Besides, she was curious what this Weasley was up to. He had intrigued her and for a moment, she had felt like herself again. Nodding to him, she picked up her glass and took a sip. Percy began to prattle on about Hogwarts and the rebuilding—she barely listened, but noticed his voice was pleasant, if a bit monotone.

As he rambled, she took in his full appearance. His robes were a simple, inky black, but the weaving at the wrists was in an intricate pattern that led her to believe they were expensive. The fabric was pressed and tailored to his lean body. His hair was a darker red, cropped neatly, and she found herself staring at his firm jaw. Before he caught her, she snagged the wine and took a deep gulp, chiding herself for her lack of control. Maybe she had been cooped up too long alone, or maybe it was the alcohol. Either way, she didn’t want to be noticed checking out Percy Weasley.

“So, McGonagall has you working on repairing the tapestries?” 

It took her a moment to realise he had asked her a question. Though his tone was polite and cordial, her wall went up as she recalled where she was. There was no reason he should even be speaking with her right now. Her mind flew to everything he could be doing to hurt her, and she wondered what his question really meant. 

“Spying on me? Do you think that if you find something I’ve done wrong, you’ll get me kicked out of here?” She felt her face grow warm, and she went on before he could interrupt, “I’ll have you know, I am perfectly capable of mending the tapestries, though it’s not like I want to be here anyway.”

She knew she was being defensive. Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to remain calm—something that she found herself struggling with these days. Taking a sip of wine, she turned to face him, daring him with her eyes to refute her accusation. 

He blinked, but didn’t seem perturbed by her. “Well, I suppose you would see it that way.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She noted he no longer twitched in his chair. Did her lack of command only boost his own? How had he gotten control over the situation? He swirled the contents of his glass around as he watched her. “I’d like to take a walk. Come with me?” 

He took the last of his drink and stood, holding out his hand for her, eyes sparking in mischief. This man confused her, and Pansy hesitated, wondering what he was up to. As she searched his face, she couldn’t find one tell. Something was pulling her to him, though; she found his calm and authoritative nature alluring. Realising she was going to need a bit more wine to make it through this, she downed her drink in three gulps and took his hand.

They stepped out into the summer evening air; the refreshing breeze cooled her skin as it made her hair blow across her face. Percy led her down the cobbled lane, and she recognised he was heading toward the edge of town. A fountain was there she liked to visit. Thanks to the dense forest surrounding the village, it was partially secluded from people’s prying eyes. It was where she found peace, listening to the water trickle into the pool’s basin, while the smell of nearby heather calmed her fraying nerves. 

A bust of Hogsmeade’s founder sat atop the fountain. His beady, judging glare made her want to blast his ugly head off. While she didn’t curse the statue, he had gotten a pebble flung at his head a few times. More times than not, however, Pansy would simply toss small stones into the concrete pool and watch the ripples spread over the water’s surface. Thoughts of her past would weave back and forth, leaving her wondering what the purpose of it all was.

Percy had been silent on their walk, but Pansy found the quiet wasn’t all that uncomfortable. He politely held her hand in the crook of his arm, and she noticed the same scents from the parchment he had sent her. She was a bit startled to find she felt at ease with him. As they stopped in front of the fountain, that repulsive stone figure giving her its disparaging stare, she asked, “Why did you bring me here?” 

To answer her question, Percy waved his wand. The water began to bubble, and Pansy threw her guard up as magic swelled around her. Soon, pebbles emerged from the fountain and floated into the air. 

“These are your memories, your regrets, are they not?” 

Her fingers, still nestled in his elbow, dug into him. She didn’t understand what he was doing or even how he knew, but the sudden revelation had her frozen in place. The urge to straighten her spine, lift her nose high in the air, and storm away from him had the hairs on her arms standing tall. She had been weak and stupid to let her guard down, but her once-steely exterior had been chipped away so that she was now a shell of who she had been.

Between the horrors she had witnessed and partaken in during her seventh year, and the way everyone looked at her now, as if she didn’t deserve the very air she breathed, she was defeated. Percy had brought it all to the surface. She nodded as he looked down with understanding to meet her watery eyes.

He turned his face to the levitating stones, and she followed his gaze. Another flick of his wrist and a stone began to transform. It was slow; the smooth edges shifting from its rounded form into something new. After a moment, a small golden badge was lowered into her palm. 

“You were a Prefect. It was something you were proud of, right?” 

She sighed, remembering the feeling of pride she had felt in receiving the duty.

Another pebble began to change and soon a new token was in her hand. A charm: a pair of ballet shoes. She rolled the silver trinket between her thumb and forefinger, remembering how hard she had worked to dance en pointe. It was a painful but rewarding experience. 

Her eyes burned with tears and a third transfigured talisman was before her. One-by-one, a stone was shifted into a representation of her memories. Some of them felt like lead in her hand, painful memories weighing heavy. While others made her heart swell with happiness. After they had all been changed, she looked to Percy who was staring at her with a soft smile. 

“How did you do this, and more importantly, why?” 

His eyes brightened in enthusiasm, but he held his tone even. “A clever bit of wandwork. A charm reveals the object, but the transfiguration of the stone is the hard part.” 

He looked so smug and proud of himself, that she couldn’t hold back the small lift of her lips. Brow arched high, she prompted, “And why?” 

“You may feel like no one notices, but I did. Not long ago, I had sunk to a dark place. I pushed everyone away, and made a mess of things. I was going with the motions, drifting through each day as if I’d been Imperiused. Someone noticed and helped me realise it can be different.” 

He paused, pulling her to sit with him on the edge of the fountain. He let go of her arm, and she cradled the charms in her lap. 

With his wand, he tapped one of the charms, a beetle with green wings and asked her, “Why is this one a regret?” 

“I told lies and spread rumours to Skeeter.” 

He nodded knowingly. With another tap of his wand, the beetle transfigured back into a pebble and was tossed into the water. She watched as the stone made a small splash and sunk to the bottom. 

“It’s no more than a part of your past. Move on, forgive yourself.” He pointed to a badger. “Now, this one?”

“I cursed a Hufflepuff.” The shame in remembering the poor girl’s cries made Pansy’s stomach clench. The badger shifted back into stone and was dumped into the water. 

“Ask for forgiveness from this person and find it in yourself to do the same.” 

They talked about each and every token. The good ones lifted her spirits, and she found herself talking more than she had in months. Percy palmed all of the happy memories, and as the last piece lay in her lap, she thought she understood the point of all of this. A grey lightning bolt token stood bold as the largest of her regrets. 

She picked it up and held it flat in her palm. “I would have given Potter up to the Dark Lord to save my life.” Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “He willingly gave his to save ours.” 

From the corner of her eye, she watched Percy’s wand. Slowly, the lightning bolt changed from grey to a bright yellow. It floated from her palm and into the air to be joined by the ballet shoes, prefect badge, and the other happy charms. They revolved around each other, creating a circle and joining together before falling back into her lap. 

Picking up the bracelet, she admired the magic of it all. This was a gift, one that she hadn’t asked for, didn’t even know she needed, and probably did not deserve, but left her mind reeling with its intent. 

Percy’s slender fingers grasped the metal clasp. “May I?” She held her wrist out in approval. “It’s time to make new memories, Pansy. Ones that will go on this bracelet, not into the fountain.” 

“Why keep the lightning bolt?” 

“To remind you that you will make mistakes, but you can own them and learn from them. To remind you that life isn’t perfect, but to take the good with the bad.” 

Nodding, she was sure her mascara was running down her face from her silent tears. The emotions were almost too much, but at the same time, she felt lighter. Holding onto the heavy burden of her pain and regret had become unbearable. Percy had given her what she needed most—to be reminded that she, too, was redeemable. 


End file.
